Time Triptych Memoir - Inspired By "the Face"
The "Time Triptych Memoir" is inspired by a memoir titled The Face printed and bound together from Restless Books, written by Ruth Ozeki as she was inspired by a previous face-inspired collection from various authors.
Each author gives a unique perspective from their view of looking and studying one face for a set amount of time. They think about the face in the form of the present, past, and future. Here is my take:
The PRESENT
Fresh out of the shower, hair still damp, no makeup on. I’m pale. I look almost ghostly. I flush red with every tiny ounce of embarrassment. Faint brown freckles cover my forehead, nose, and cheeks with no pattern at all, as if someone took a paint-filled brush and splattered it across the canvas I call my face.
They stand out in the summertime, but I’ve gotten so used to them, I don’t even see them unless I try. The more I look at my freckles, the more I actually like them, and wonder why I always cover them up with makeup. It’s the most perfect of imperfections I have on my face. Why do I go straight to the negative, critiquing myself, wishing what was different?
Yikes. I haven’t gotten my eyebrows done in forever. I’ve always hated my eyebrows but loved my eyes. They’re too blonde for the dark brown of my natural roots. Thin, some hairs even curly, bending in the wrong direction causing my OCD to pull them out.
My eyes would be my favorite feature, besides my lips. They are the lightest shade of blue, always causing me to tear up in the sunlight, easily getting red when I’m on drugs. Isn’t it weird we’ve never seen our own eyes in person? It’s always a reflection looking back at us. I’m most in love with the feature I’ve never seen.
At 21 years old I feel like I already had my ‘going-out’ stage. I had a fake ID at 16 and went to the clubs downtown with my girls. I woke up hungover and greasy. Now I look in the mirror most mornings grateful for my clear skin, using my fingertips to spread creams under my eyes and across my cheeks. I don’t cover up my freckles as much. I’m learning to love myself as I am.
The PAST
When I started to get into make up I was in seventh grade, experimenting with eyeshadow and lipsticks. My middle school best friend always wore a light shade of dusty blue over her green eyes.
She was quirky, she pulled it off, but to this day I just can’t wear blue makeup. I see her in it, I see our failed friendship, my selfish mistakes. When I was in 10th grade I cut my hair right below my chin. Someone in the halls said I dressed and looked like a mom. I stopped wearing my mother's clothes, and she asked me “why is what he said a bad thing?”
When I was in 11th grade, I studied abroad in the United Kingdom. The girls at my sixth form school all looked the same: Fake tanned, bronzed faces, straight silky hair. I felt so American, so young, and ugly. As I befriended them, they did my makeup, taught me how to contour. I posted pictures and got more attention than I ever had before. For the first time, I felt different. And I felt pretty.
The month of my return home in January, I wore a full face of foundation, powder, bronzer, and blush. My mother asked me, “Is this how much makeup you wear every day now?” I replied, “No, not all the time.” But it was. It still is. She would pull my hair back into a fake ponytail. “Look at you though, you’re so beautiful. Why do you have to hide?”
But I looked at makeup as an art. It highlighted my favorite features and fixed the ones I wasn’t happy with. Darkening my eyebrows to match my roots, picking a darker shade of concealer to match my tan.
I spent hours in front of the makeshift vanity of my desk, mirror, and lamp. It was calming, in the same way, you stroke a paintbrush. I was painting my face. I was turning into someone I didn’t use to be.
The FUTURE
When I am old I imagine my face will be pruned, wrinkled like a raisin. My grandmother has so many lines across her face I cannot count them, but they blanket her face like the comfort I’ve always known.
My mother never wore makeup, only a dabbled of Clinique lipstick in the lightest shade of berry red. When she looks in the mirror, she pulls some skin back, seeing the alternate version of herself, the version society says she should be.
Younger, wrinkle-free, skin tight. I still don’t understand how someone who cares so little about her image would get caught up in something like that. My mother’s soul is so beautiful she never needed to worry about the outside because she was so occupied worrying about others.
My grandmother, skin worn down from too many days under the country sun tending her stables with her seven children. Their skin shows the fullness of the lives they lived- too busy and too full of love to care for.
When I am old I hope to look just like them. All the years I’ve spent trying to change my face with lip plumpers, tweezers, and masks, I wonder if my mother felt like I was trying to get away from them.
When my face changed, did I change? Gold shadow made my eyes brighter, so I could catch the attention of guys and jealous looks from girls. How much of it was for me? How come I felt the most confident about myself when I was the furthest away from my true form?
The older me, at age 53, like my mother, won’t wear makeup every day because she’ll have children who will think she’s so beautiful in her natural state. She’ll want to show them she feels beautiful in her natural state.
Her children will see their grandmother, and her face now looks like a raisin, and it will bring them so much comfort. I hope, and I know, I’ll need her every step of the way and the kids will see her as another mom, probably a lot better one than me.
I will look at their young faces full of dreams and ambitions. I will look at them when I drive them home from school and a boy tells them they don’t dress like the other kids. I will push their hair back and tell them how beautiful they are.
Opinions and Perspectives
The connection between identity and appearance is explored so thoughtfully here.
Her insights about aging and beauty across generations are surprisingly profound.
This piece perfectly captures that journey from self-criticism to self-acceptance.
Love how she acknowledges both the comfort and complexity of family beauty traditions.
Her reflection on teenage insecurity versus adult confidence feels very authentic.
The way she describes her features changing with makeup application is so vivid.
I connect with her hope that her future children will see beauty in natural aging.
This piece really captures that complicated relationship between makeup and self-love.
The evolution from hiding to highlighting natural features is such a relatable journey.
Her mother's simple berry red Clinique lipstick tells such a story about her generation.
The whole piece feels like a conversation between generations about beauty and worth.
I appreciate how she questions whether the makeup was really for herself or for others.
That bit about her grandmother's face lines being like a comfort blanket is just beautiful writing.
It's interesting how she both critiques and embraces makeup culture simultaneously.
The line about her mother being too busy caring for others to care about appearance really got to me.
Amazing how she weaves together three generations of beauty standards and self-acceptance.
Really feeling seen in that part about being grateful for clear skin after the party years.
The description of her mother's simple beauty routine versus her elaborate one says so much.
Her reflections on future aging are so mature for someone in their early twenties.
This reminds me of my own journey with self-image. Still working on it honestly.
The parallel between painting and applying makeup is interesting. Both art forms, but one feels more loaded.
I love how she acknowledges both the artistry and insecurity in her makeup routine.
Her mothers question about why looking like a mom is bad really struck me. Such wisdom there.
The transformation from covering freckles to embracing them shows real growth.
Makes me think about how much time we spend looking at ourselves versus actually living.
Fascinating how she connects specific makeup choices to different life experiences and relationships.
The way she describes her grandmother's sun-worn skin as a testament to a life well-lived is beautiful.
My heart aches at the part where she wonders if her mother felt she was trying to get away from them.
This really captures that universal experience of learning to love our faces exactly as they are.
I relate to the fake ID story but not the early maturity. Still figuring that part out.
The contrast between teenage makeup exploration and adult self-acceptance is beautifully drawn.
There's something powerful about how she sees her future self through the lens of her mother and grandmother.
Reading this made me look in the mirror differently today. Maybe I need to be kinder to my reflection.
The cycle of maternal beauty advice and rebellion is so well captured here.
Never thought about how weird it is that we never see our own eyes directly. Mind blown.
I appreciate how she acknowledges both loving and critiquing herself in the same moment. It feels very honest.
That part about pulling out eyebrow hairs speaks to my soul. Why do we do this to ourselves?
It's refreshing to read someone acknowledge both the artistry and the burden of makeup culture.
The connection between makeup and self-worth is so complex. This piece really explores that well.
I wonder if our children will have the same complicated relationship with appearance that we do.
The cultural impact of her UK experience shows how beauty standards vary globally yet still pressure us similarly.
Reading this makes me want to call my mom and tell her I understand better now.
Her description of looking ghostly out of the shower reminds me of my own morning mirror encounters.
The detail about her eyes tearing up in sunlight feels so intimate and personal. We all have these little quirks we rarely share.
Love how she captures that moment of teenage self-discovery through makeup, even if it came with some internal conflict.
The transition from hiding freckles to appreciating them as perfect imperfections is such a journey many of us share.
I understand what you mean about makeup as art, but isn't there something sad about feeling the need to paint ourselves?
Interesting how she views her future self through her mother's lens while currently doing exactly what her mother advised against.
The description of her grandmother's face having lines like a comforting blanket made me tear up.
Really? I found the makeup transformation empowering. It doesn't have to be about hiding.
That observation about blue eyeshadow and lost friendship is so specific yet universally relatable somehow.
I actually relate more to the mother's perspective. I've never been much for makeup, but society does make you question that choice.
The future section breaks my heart a little. The hope that her children will see beauty in natural aging is powerful.
I find it interesting how she connects makeup use to her time abroad. It's like makeup became part of her identity transformation.
Anyone else catch themselves pulling their skin back in the mirror like the mother does? I feel called out.
The part about never seeing our own eyes in person except through reflections really made me stop and think.
I disagree about makeup being a mask. For me it's always been about creative expression, not hiding.
This hits close to home. I'm also learning to appreciate my natural features instead of trying to change them.
The metaphor of her grandmother's face being like a raisin but bringing comfort is beautiful. Makes me think of my own grandma.
The generational perspective is fascinating. From grandmother to mother to daughter, each with their own relationship to beauty and aging.
Does anyone else feel personally attacked by the part about covering up freckles? I spent years hiding mine before finally embracing them.
I love how she contrasts her relationship with makeup against her mother's simple Clinique lipstick. It says so much about generational differences.
Such a moving piece. The way she describes her journey with makeup and self-acceptance really resonates with me.